


kill the envious moon

by doriangrays



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, Romeo and Juliet References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 15:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18210269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doriangrays/pseuds/doriangrays
Summary: Romcom dictates that when you are in love with your best friend, you keep it to yourself because you’re scared they won’t feel the same way and you end up breaking your friendship and your heart. Usually in fictional situations, however, the best friend is magically also into you. But this is reality, so Ten suppresses all thoughts of kissing Sicheng’s pout away.





	kill the envious moon

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: yonder; that over there, those over there.
> 
> _But soft, what light through **yonder** window breaks?_

"But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?” Sicheng’s voice was hushed as he murmured out his line, legs kicking against the stone wall he was sitting atop, head tilted back, lips parted, and eyes screwed shut as he tried to remember.

 

Looking away with a burning face, Ten sipped noisily at his La Croix to distract him from the absolutely pornographic image Sicheng painted in his current pose as he waited for him to finish the rest of the monologue, the slurping causing the other to break from his concentration and into giggles.

 

“Ten,” Sicheng whines in an exhale, leaping down from the wall. He chases after the other with outstretched hands, Ten ducking away from him, careful not to spill his carbonated death water. “Come on, the play’s in literally a month, we’re getting our costumes today, I can’t let everyone down like this.”

 

“Aw,” Ten finally skids to a stop as Sicheng faces him. “You’ll do fine. Sweep us all off our feet just like you’ll do to Joy.”

 

Sicheng smiles at Ten, glows with a sort of bashful pride at his encouragement that makes Ten want to pull him closer and stand up on his tippy toes to plant a kiss on the round of his cheek just to see the blush intensify, but of course, he doesn’t, because having a crush on your best friend was a literal fanfiction trope and Ten would like to live his life without the so-called "y/n moments" or be a walking stereotype, thank you very much.

 

Regarding his relationship with Sicheng, it was a product of freshman year gym class, which was given the insidious name of  _physical education_. There was nothing educational about it. It was the unlawful torture of two suffering kids watching as Jaehyun Jung sprints past them in the mile-run test. Camaraderie grew from there, and then genuine friendship when they both auditioned for the spring play and ended up as ensemble characters in _Gatsby_. Sicheng had been taller than him even then, lanky and willow-like with sharp angles. But it’s like over the years, as he filled out, his face became even more elven in its grace to offset a witty personality that was just as fey as his looks promised. And when Ten’s heart skipped multiple beats in the summer between sophomore and junior year as Sicheng laughed, water streaming from his face as he emerged from the neighborhood pool and then splashed Ten with water, he knew he was screwed for good.

 

Romcom dictates that when you are in love with your best friend, you keep it to yourself because you’re scared they won’t feel the same way and you end up breaking your friendship and your heart. Usually in fictional situations, however, the best friend is magically also into you. But this is reality, so Ten suppresses all thoughts of kissing Sicheng’s pout away.

 

“Thanks,” says the subject of his romantic daydreams.

 

“No problem,” Ten grins. “Now, where were we?”

 

“It is the east, and you are the sun,” Sicheng replies automatically, before running his tongue over his lower lip, frowning a bit.

 

Ten hates the fact that his eyes immediately follow the movement, the script he was supposed to help Sicheng memorize flapping limply in his hands, forgotten. He also hates the way that Sicheng isn't even saying the line right but he's still making Ten's heart beat in sixteenth notes.

 

“Arise, fair sun— and kill the— jealo— envious moon, who is already sick— and— and pale with grief that—” he pauses and then finishes, stooping to look at Ten, “you are more fair than she.”

 

Heart pounding so hard Ten thinks that he might die before the play and they’re going to have to get fucking _Donghyuck Lee_ of all people to be his understudy, it’s that thought that makes him step backwards and scan the script, because _no_ , he will not die before his time to shine and let that little brat upstage his glory (he loves that kid, he really does though, it's just that. Sometimes, Donghyuck can be a bit much, which Sicheng says is just like he himself. Ten would argue that only one person at this school is allowed to be "too much" and it has to be him, to Sicheng's fond amusement).

 

“It’s ‘Juliet is the sun’,” Ten tells him instead.

 

“Well, let’s sit down and go over it,” Sicheng replies. They find themselves both up on the wall again, Sicheng rummaging through his backpack for a pencil and a highlighter before pushing his glasses back on.

 

“You said ‘you are the sun’ instead of Juliet,” Ten points out as Sicheng leans in, close enough for Ten to be able to marvel at the shadows cast by his lashes and the gleam of light on his lips.

 

“Okay,” Sicheng nods and highlights that line, scribbling in the margins.

 

It’s February but still Ten feels too warm with Sicheng leaning up right against him, shoulders and arms and thighs and the sides of their heads touching.

 

“I think mostly, it’s just that you’re speaking in second person, as if _to_ me —” Ten hastily corrects himself, “—to Juliet, I mean, instead of _about_ her, you know.”

 

In the distance, the bell signalling the end of lunch ends, and Sicheng lays his hand over Ten’s. “Thanks.”

 

There’s no way that didn’t just deep fry Ten’s brain so the only thing that comes out of his mouth is a garbled laugh as he yanks his hand away and jumps off of the wall, thrusting the paper in Sicheng’s face.

 

“Here you go, I gotta get to class, there’s a quiz in trig today,” he says hurriedly, shouldering his bag.

 

Ten thinks he hears Sicheng murmur, “Wait” after him, but that has to be his delusion. Coming into the classroom, his phone buzzes with a series of text messages.

 

**[win]**

_U left ur drink_

_Didn’t u hear me?_

 

**[ten]**

_Sorry, was distracted._

 

**[win]**

_I finished it all sorry_

_I have concluded that la croix is not meant for human consumption_

 

**[win]**

_The fuck does your nut taste like with that combo of la croix and no fruit dude_

 

That very statement makes Ten’s brain fizzle like TV static. It was all good and fine to keep admiring Sicheng romantically from afar but this- the outright statement, left him shocked enough to produce some sort of wounded whine that made the sophomore who sat next to him throw a strange glance his way.

 

“Sorry, it’s nothing.” he mutters at her.

 

Jieqiong throws him a baffled look before she turns back to her own notes.

 

As he was saying, it was all fine to admire the way Sicheng looked from afar, analyzing it like it was a painting or sculpture or something. It was something else entirely to be discussing the flavor of his jizz with his best friend. It wasn’t fine to be thinking about typing out “wanna find out haha”.

 

It was even less fine to have typed it out and then pressed send before he adds in a quick “jk”.

 

**[win]**

_idk_

_Can i?_

 

“WHAT-” Ten screeches, standing up.

 

“Mister Li, sit _down_ ,” bit out Mr. Kim. “We are going to be taking a _quiz_ in two minutes.”

 

Clenching his jaw, Ten takes a seat.

 

* * *

 

Everyone who’s dressed is milling around in their costumes, getting measurements for the alterations taken by one of the people from costuming or else preening and taking selfies and admiring themselves in their reflection of the mirror. Ten sees Joy as Juliet, the flowing red gown, her wavy hair, getting photographed in increasingly silly poses by her girlfriend, Rose, one of the costumers. He sees Sehun and Johnny laughing together. He sees Jennie brush through her sleek hair as she admires herself as Lady Capulet.

 

“Hey Krystal, no time to talk right now, sorry,” Ten says in a rush as he sees the woman decked out in an opulent dress of blue and gold coming up to speak with him the moment he sets foot in the drama classroom. “Do you know where-”

 

Someone- he thinks it’s Yuta, one of the techies (also double-casted as Gregory)- yells “HEADS UP!” from the corner of the room and hurls a bundle towards them.

 

Ten squeaks and dodges.

 

Krystal reaches up one hand to catch it like some sort of goddess in that flowing blue dress instead of just a salty noblewoman from the 1500s Italy. Some sort of Avenger. Like Thor summoning Mjolnir but it’s a package that flies to her hand instead. One that she tosses towards Ten.

 

“Your costume,” she says as Ten fumbles and then drops it on the ground in a pathetic splat of plastic-wrapped velvet.

 

“Your boy’s in the dressing room, by the way,” she tells him.

 

“Not my boy!” Ten corrects, though Krystal merely raises a skeptical eyebrow and then goes to chat up Jinri, the Nurse in a russet gown. Ten grins in what he hopes looks like gratitude before he grabs the clothes off the ground and then power walks to the men’s dressing room down the hall, throwing open the door.

 

The door shuts behind Ten, and echoes as he sees Sicheng pull off his shirt in the mirror, and Ten drops the bundle again on the ground.

 

(But hey, at least it’s better than dropping his jaw or pants at that.)

 

Clearing his throat, he saunters up beside him. “Hey Win,” he says, hoping his voice comes out even and steady and _normal_ and _not_ like he was planning to sit consumed with lust for the rest of the evening.

 

“Hey yourself,” Sicheng replies as he throws Romeo’s white shirt over his frame before turning around, not yet lacing it up.

 

Ten’s eyes stray to the way the neckline of the shirt dips to below Sicheng’s clavicle, ending at the middle of his sternum.

 

“Eyes up here,” Sicheng says, sounding amused, and when Ten and then drags his gaze back up, he’s smirking. “I know I’m hot.”

 

“I know, I have eyes,” Ten snorts, tearing open his own bag none too gently, trying to get his attention away from Sicheng and his infuriating smirk and unlaced shirt.

 

He pulls the shirt and the pants and the violet jacket out of the bag before he hears Sicheng sigh. “You’re acting weird.”

 

“Am not,” Ten retorts as he shakes out the fabric.

 

“Ten, what’s wrong? I thought we were friends and we could talk shit out.”

 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Ten snaps before he yanks his sweater over his head and then tugs the shirt down over it, trying to clumsily lace it up to little avail.

 

Sicheng lets out an aggravated breath and then turns Ten around by his shoulders, pushing Ten’s fingers away from the knot he had formed of the strings. “Let me do it,” he says.

 

Ten holds his breath as Sicheng strings the ribbon through the eyelet, crisscrossing it over before pulling it slightly tighter.

 

“How many rows should I do?” Sicheng asks him carefully as he threads the ribbon again.

 

Ten jolts when Sicheng’s fingertips touch his skin and clears his throat. “I dunno. Mercutio’s sorta slutty and gay, right?”

 

Sicheng hums in response, lacing up the second row before he lets the ribbon fall and then tits his head quizzically, studying Ten’s features.

 

Ten prays his heartbeat isn’t audible, staccatoing in triple time as Sicheng’s curious expression cleared and his lips parted slightly, blinking.

 

“Ten, no way,” he breathed, and brings a hand up to brush Ten’s hair out of his eyes and then left it to linger there against the side of his face.

 

Ten makes a noise of confusion at the back of his throat, trembling all over with a sort of nervous energy that could only be compared to Jaemin after his fourth coffee.

 

Jittery. Those metaphorical butterflies were replaced by bouncy balls that scattered through his entire abdominal cavity like a windows screensaver, only with rougher impacts.

 

“Do you like me?” Sicheng asks him, the question abrupt.

 

“What?” Ten replies, more sharply than he should have.

 

The hand that had cupped his face slackens and drops away, and Sicheng steps back, looking a bit forlorn as he says, “Sorry. I don’t know what that was. Method acting? Getting into the mood before we rehearse? I didn’t mean to make it weird, I swear.”

 

“Sicheng,” Ten says slowly. “Do you like _me_?”

 

Sicheng’s lips form an “o” of surprise. “I…”

 

Ten smiles wryly. “C’mon, let’s both just answer each other at the count of three.”

 

Sicheng gives Ten a small smile in return. “One,”

 

“Two,” Ten says.

 

“Yes,” Sicheng says.

 

Ten says, “Three- wait- oh, fuck, yeah. Yeah, I do. Like you, I mean,” he flusters.

 

“Was it on the count of three or on three?” Sicheng giggles.

 

“I don’t know, but at least we like each other,” Ten grins back, standing up on tiptoes to pull Sicheng closer, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth and then pulling back.

 

Sicheng chases after his lips, crowding Ten against the mirror as he ducks his head and they kiss properly for the first time. Sicheng’s lips are a bit dry, and taste like nectarine lip balm, and Ten experimentally licks at the seam of them before Sicheng’s lips part for him.

 

Ten tugs on Sicheng’s lower lip with his teeth before he feels Sicheng’s tongue tracing over his own lips.

 

Okay, wow, so this was hot, he thinks, reaching a hand under Sicheng’s shirt just as the click of the doorknob is heard and then the door cracks open.

 

“Romes! You’re on in five doing the balcony scene and Mr. Do wants to know where the fuck you are,” Sehun, the senior playing Sicheng’s in-story cousin, Benvolio, proclaims as he walks in.

 

Sicheng pulls away from Ten slightly to look back at Sehun, and Ten retracts the hand that was feeling Sicheng up to wave impishly at the elder, who looks as though he wishes his eyes were burned away.

 

“I’ll be there in three,” Sicheng tells Sehun.

 

“On god, you guys better not jack each other against the mirror,” Sehun warns. “You’ll be the ones cleaning it up.”

 

“Thanks for the idea,” Ten grins lazily.

 

Sehun fakes gagging before he walks out again.

 

“Where were we?” Ten asks as the door closes behind Sehun, slinging his arm over Sicheng’s shoulder.

 

Sicheng presses a kiss to the tip of Ten’s nose before he says, “Later, Ten,” and pulls out of his grasp.

 

Ten fake-whines, leaning against the cool metal of the mirror as Sicheng rearranges his hair and shirt, and then puts on the blue and gold doublet. “Wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?”

 

“That’s my line,” Sicheng says, amused. “What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?”

 

“Take me home and kiss me properly,” Ten says. “Call it a study session.”

 

Sicheng looks back over his shoulders at Ten as he opens the dressing room door. “Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> [ twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/xyunqis)   
>  [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/xyunqis)   
> 


End file.
